Archives for posts with tag: relationships

I am thinking over the week to come. I won’t see my traveling partner again for a week, and sometime Thursday we’ll lose touch altogether while he’s away, and I won’t hear from him until sometime late Monday or early Tuesday. In all other respects, the next 7 days to come seems entirely ordinary in every way. It’s strange that the presence of one human being, the specific characteristics of one voice, one touch, one human being’s… way, can be so completely woven into so many other elements of my experience, isn’t it? I won’t actually be “without” him… not entirely; I am reminded of him everywhere I turn.

Love is everywhere - well, everywhere we make it.

Love is everywhere – well, everywhere we make it.

It’s a gray morning. Traffic in the distance sounds muffled. There is no obvious sunrise, just the day lightening from twilight to definite day time as I sip my coffee. I sit quietly. Writing isn’t so easy today. Some days the words queue up in my consciousness, sentences forming faster than I can type, ideas spilling messily onto the page. This morning? Thought. Consideration. The slow gathering of recalcitrant words. Sentences… sort of. My mind wanders to the lawn beyond the window, the caw of crows on the far side of the park, the morning itself. I am slow to wake fully. I continue to sip my coffee and consider the morning, and to wonder “what life is made of” other than details, choices, consequences and time? It’s not really fair to the topic to describe life with such brevity.

I ache from physical therapy, yesterday. The gray day hinting of rain ensures I don’t overlook my arthritis, either. No headache – that’s something.

A few words exchanged over instant message with my traveling partner makes my morning feel more “real”, more complete, and it’s something I will miss while he is away. This week we don’t travel through life together. We are each having our own experience. Sharing those details will come later. His absence feels more real this morning, having spent last evening together and knowing it’ll be one week from today before we can be in each other’s arms again. I keep coming back to it. Fussy and fretful in some moments, relaxed and content in others. How very human! 🙂

I don’t feel much like writing this morning. That’s come up a few times recently, since being emotionally attacked by someone I thought was a friend, on Facebook (a connection to my recent disinclination to write that I hadn’t previously made). It’s a feeling of subtle over-exposure, an awareness that, yes, people who don’t like me, don’t support my views, disagree with me wholly, find me without value – or worse – may also read my writing. It is, as they say, a free country. I am discomfited by that. It is a strange emotion to acknowledge, and one of the very few emotional experiences that has ever left me feeling reluctant to write. I am struck by the detailed awareness of something that has the potential to silence me as a human being. I don’t like thinking about the feeling; it is as unpleasant as feeling it.

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“What is life made of?” seems a good question to ask, and the answers I contemplate have their own value. “What silences me?” seems a terrifying question that I don’t want to ask, and have even less interest in answering – and I resent that. So. Perhaps I will spend this peculiar and rare solo week asking myself that question, and listening to the answers. Life’s curriculum reaches me in many forms.

Today is a good day to face the woman in the mirror quite fearlessly; we’ve been through a lot together, and I know she’s got my back. 🙂

 

I woke feeling strangely out-of-sorts, not quite cross, but not feeling buoyant, merry, or joyful. I rested well. I even slept in and woke some time after the sun was heaving himself into the sky again. My coffee tastes good, and for the moment I am not in any noteworthy amount of pain. I feel subdued, nonetheless, and not as enticed by the prospect of the morning as I have generally grown to be. I can’t quite force an understanding smile, though the intent to have one is there…

My traveling partner arrived last night later than he often does. It’s been a busy week, and he’s got busy days to come, in preparation for an upcoming festival. It’s still days away, and it’s likely we’ll see each other once or twice before he departs. He’s busy getting ahead on work in order to vacation comfortably and he made the choice to return home at the end of the evening, rather than stay over with me. There’s no stress in that, no aggravation, no sense that I am in any way less important to him – but I miss him on this sunny Friday morning. There’s something about sharing our morning coffee that isn’t like any other moment.

I’m not yet entirely awake. I sat down to write first, because missing my traveling partner had overcome me, before I woke. My routines broke with my implicit expectations. I sip my coffee and wonder about the day… the song in my head isn’t a sunny one…but it is one that I strongly associate with a tender moment with my traveling partner, wrapped in love. I put it on the stereo (the only way I know to vanquish a musical “earworm” is to play the song) and let the tears come – and they do. They aren’t hateful, contemptible, bad, wrong, or weak, they’re just tears; they are a sign that I feel. I totally do. This morning I feel love – just more of it than I can contain.

Tangentially, isn’t it strange how powerful music is? I can sometimes change my mood – a lot – by changing the music I am listening to. So, I try a little of this and a little of that, and watch the sun continue to rise. It’s a new day. It feels good to begin again. 🙂

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I’ve had some health concerns on my mind lately. Aging seems to have that effect on people. Last night my traveling partner and I really talked through the concerns I have, what’s to be done, and what else if, and etcetera. My simmering stress and anxiety about my health – and frankly, my mortality – spilled over as hot tears. We shared the moment, comforted each other, moved quickly to one really important super obvious detail; I’m okay right now. We both are.

Are you okay?

Are you okay?

There’s literally not actually anything wrong right now. Sure, maybe at some point in the future, in some doctor’s office or another, somewhen, I may be given some sort of medical diagnosis that presents real risk of shortening my lifespan, or degrading my quality of life. Sure could. Hasn’t. Has not happened yet. It’s (playfully) Schrödinger’s Health Concern, being neither a crisis now, of any certainty, nor clearly and most definitely nothing at all. 🙂 My partner’s great (and very reassuring) perspective calmed me way down – as did taking the time to speak together frankly, intimately, and openly about our individual fears (as well as we know how to), concerns, needs, and to share comforting words, and presence. We moved on comfortably to other things, though I’m sure we’re both still thinking about it more often than we’d like.

Love matters most.

Love matters most.

The lovely day today has been a product of good fortune, and good self-care practices, I suppose. I’m dreadfully tired, in the middle of the day. It’s not that strange – I only slept a bit more than 4 hours last night, having stayed up quite late watching a movie. I woke a bit earlier than my usual time, and couldn’t get back to sleep. I spent the early hours on yoga, exercise, and meditation. I went for my walk in the park in the early morning sunshine. It was beautiful. Today has felt ‘easy’, in spite of being short on sleep. Is that due to all the practice, new resilience, good self-care, getting good sleep most of the time, some combination of those things, none of those things – just an unexpectedly effortless pleasant day? (Those exist. They’re lovely.) It doesn’t matter. I enjoy the day quietly. I enjoy it in my garden, and on my patio with coffee. I enjoy it over a few chapters of the book I am reading. I enjoy it while I go to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription, and at the store while I buy coffee. I enjoy the sunshine on my back and the breeze through my hair. I enjoy miles of walking. I enjoy returning home and the opportunity to stop walking, sit down and rest. I enjoy the breathing. I enjoy the thinking. I enjoy the daydreaming. I enjoy the Love. Yeah… just a generally very pleasant day. I sat for a while wondering if some people have a lot of these, and don’t realize that it’s not super common. Then… I wonder if it’s actually quite routine and mundane, and if perhaps I’m the one with the strange experience. Then… I wonder why the hell I am screwing with a lovely sunny summer day with all this strange wondering? So, I enjoy the day.

A summer day as beautiful as a postcard.

A summer day as beautiful as a postcard.

At some point I realized I hadn’t written this morning. I’d forgotten… and then… Well, then I did all that, up there ^^^^^, and here we are. 🙂

The long weekend coming is forecast to be quite beautiful. I’ve a Saturday adventure planned; I am taking the train to a distant farmer’s market, one that I have not been to before. No expectations, besides taking the journey and seeing the sights.

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It’s enough to be, to breathe, to see the sights.

I relax with the moment, and find myself suddenly sleepy. Too late in the day for coffee, far too early to call it a night. Perhaps another walk in the sunshine… Change being what it is, I’ll enjoy what I have now. Summer doesn’t stick around forever, here (at least not in 2016).

I am sipping my coffee and contemplating all the many times I started in therapy or began some sort of new treatment modality intending to ease my symptoms in some significant way, or to explain (or excuse) my behavior without really having to work to change it (or myself). It was both frustrating and pointless, and I didn’t get very far at all. Was it because all those different sorts of things, and all those many professionals, just weren’t effective or appropriate? Doesn’t that seem just a bit unlikely? It’s so common, though… So… What might account for how common it is for ‘therapy’ not working out, not working very effectively, or being ‘a bad fit’? I think it over and find my way to one fairly obvious conclusion; it’s the relationship.

Therapy – any sort of mental health treatment focused on interaction between professional care-giver and patient seeking treatment – is pretty intimate stuff. If I am not entirely comfortable, emotionally, with the therapist, why would I expect to get much out of it? I won’t be very likely to be open with a therapist I am uncomfortable with, would I? In such a scenario, I find myself feeling that the therapy ‘isn’t working’, when it is more properly stated that the relationship isn’t working – very understandable. So, there’s that – it’s a relationship, and requires commitment, investment, openness, trust – all the qualities any relationship must have to thrive.

There’s another characteristic, lacking which therapy is a mockery, and that is openness characterized by absolute frank forthright revealing honesty. Approaching treatment dishonestly absolutely ensures no progress is ever made, at all. Seeking a therapist who will be satisfied to take a paycheck, push some pills my way, write some notes I will never see, say nice things to me, and reassure me that I’m ‘not crazy’, allowing me to hear that as ‘it’s someone else’s fault’ (although that’s not what’s actually being said) isn’t ‘therapy’, and progress is not an outcome to be expected. It’s just more bullshit and game-playing. It’s just more drama. It is also a serious waste of limited precious life time and resources for no point; the world is generally not deceived when we play at deceiving ourselves. Certainly our loved ones are not deceived when we come home from therapy with excuses instead of progress; they are already living with our crazy, well-acquainted with our chaos and damage. It is not possible to bullshit the people we hurt with our madness for very long.

I find myself wondering if therapists and clinical professionals of all sorts find it frustrating to be aware when a client isn’t going to ‘do the work’, or when they observe that a client isn’t committed to recovering, to healing, but only to justifying their position, or excusing bad behavior? Do they experience a sense of precious time being wasted? Is the money still worth it? Is it ‘just a job’? Are they ever tempted to say out loud “I really don’t want to see you anymore, because you just aren’t making any effort”? It wouldn’t seem a fiscally good practice, if one were employed delivering therapy to people to earn a living…but… it would seem more honest, perhaps. I’ve ended treatment with a lot of practitioners of a variety of sorts (I count 14 therapists over 34 years of seeking help) – I haven’t had one end treatment with me, even when I was clearly not engaged, and getting no benefit (although two retired while treating me).

I find it, looking back, a rather sad waste of time to have paid so much money to spend time carefully crafting a narrative that resulted in hearing what I wanted so badly to hear in the moment – that I’m fine, it’s the world that’s broken, or my relationship, or my job, or… anything but having to choke on the truth that my own choices and my own behavior might have something to do with my experience, and that I might have to be accountable for the results – and responsible for making the needed changes. That may well have been the most singularly difficult step on this journey, just acknowledging that I have choices, that I am an active participant, that I am ultimately the architect of my own experience – and that I have moments when I am one fucked-up not-at-all-rational really-not-right-in-the-head fancy monkey that owes someone dear a very sincere apology, and a commitment to the real work involved in treating myself and others considerably better. It is, however, a step that had to be taken – because all the steps leading me somewhere different (and better) followed that one, and could not ever precede it.

We are each having our own experience. It’s not easy finding ‘a therapy that works’ or ‘a treatment that helps’. I find myself thinking that at least in my own case that was because it took me so long to understand that therapy involves relationships – one with the therapist, and one with the person in the mirror. Being dishonest with either definitely slows things down.

I smile and sip my coffee. I’ve been in therapy with my current therapist now since very shortly after I started this blog… February, 2013? It is the first time I’ve had the experience of mental health treatment being effective for anything beyond crisis intervention. I’m in a very different place than I once was. I’m still ‘myself’, too. My therapist is unquestionably very knowledgeable and skilled, and it is clear that the treatment modality is well-selected for my needs – both very important things, and I value those characteristics of our work together. This morning, I make time to appreciate ‘the other thing’ that seems so very much at the heart of ‘making it work’; I showed up. Seriously, I am engaged, present, open, fearlessly intimate even when completely uncomfortable, and most importantly – willing to do the actual work, the practicing of practices, the corrections in behavior, the repetition, the accountability, the utter frankness with myself and with my therapist, the willingness to embrace change; there are verbs involved. Turns out that matters a lot. “Easy” just doesn’t enter into it.

Enjoying this moment.

Enjoying this moment.

My coffee is cold now. I smile thinking about progress made, and progress to come. I think about the work day ahead, and the evening beyond it. I recall my therapist wrapping up our most recent session asking me to think about my goal for this next bit of work together and realize that what I heard was acknowledgement that at least in part, we’ve successfully completed a portion of the work we had begun so many months ago. Wow. I take a few minutes to enjoy that awareness, and to simply enjoy this woman I am, so much closer to being the woman I most want to be in my life. It’s a nice start to the day.

There was a time in my life when I was pretty certain that I was so entirely broken, in some fashion or another, that any contribution I could possibly make in my relationships would be a material one – or sex. That was the limit of what I thought I had to offer the world, or a partner; if I couldn’t buy it, or provide the manual labor, or do the sex thing, what else was there, really? Well, art. There was art. I am hopeful that I don’t have to point out what an incredibly limiting – and self-fulfilling – perspective that was.

Be love.

Be love.

I say “be love” as though what I mean is obvious. Perhaps it isn’t, and maybe a gentle morning over a good coffee is a nice time to clarify? It isn’t as if “be love” is something I came up with – because, if  it were…first, what a tragic state for the world to discover love so late, and second… well, damn, what about all those love songs? So, yeah, not my original thoughts, and surely there are other people who have written more better words with greater clarity on the subject of love, generally. So…if you’re after more better words with great clarity about love, I suggest Thich Nhat Hanh, Leo Buscaglia, or, if you’re ‘not there yet’ any of a number of books on loving the person in the mirror, which does have to come first, as it turns out, to love another with any real skill…have you checked out my reading list? 😉

The love thing is a big deal. It drives a lot of marketing, and therefore a great deal of profit-making goes on associated with love (I’m looking your way Valentine’s Day!). It’s clearly something human primates favor. Are you ‘getting your share’? Are you still thinking of it in those terms? I spent a lot of years stuck on the idea that if love were ‘real’ – and I wasn’t convinced it might be until well past 30, and couldn’t seem to figure out ‘how to have it’ until I was well past 40 – if love were real at all, why wasn’t I ‘getting my share’?? Ouch. Well, in fairness, there’s so much media pressure on us all regarding love we easily succumb to the visions of love we see in advertising, on television and in movies – how can what we see at home compete or compare? We are each so human – and no one is providing us handy re-writes of our script; our best moments are at risk of going unnoticed because we are so busy looking for something very different. How suck is that? You see where this is headed, right?

Mindful love. Yep. I couldn’t fathom it for a while. Mindfulness… check. Meditation… check. Awareness… check. Present in the moment… check. Treating myself well… check. Each concept falling into place, building on each other, and more than once I returned to my therapists office with this question “how does mindful love work?” It sounds like a simple enough question, and I couldn’t quite answer it in words – however many books I read. I didn’t understand that it wasn’t the part about mindfulness that I wasn’t fully grasping… it was love. 🙂

Now we’re getting somewhere! Is this the hot sexy part? With the tips for pleasing a lover? W00t!! Go sex!!

Oh… wait… nope. Sex is sex. Love is…

Love.

Love.

By moving into my own place, while also maintaining a romantic loving relationship with my traveling partner, I did something wonderful for me; I opened my eyes to some experiences about love that I hadn’t been able to understand so simply before. Some of the lessons have been complicated. Some of them have been so simple that they tripped me up while I sought to understand them as something more complicated than they were. Love matters so much that I figured I’d share some of the things I am learning – I expect that as with really first-rate self-care, learning to love well is likely a lifetime of practice, and similarly many of the practices themselves are so simple they mislead one into thinking they are also effortless – nope, in loving too there are verbs involved. Here come some verbs now…

Invest the best in your relationships that you have to offer. This is so simple and fundamental on the surface, but it is a rich deep practice that has kept me on my toes for months now, and until this past weekend, I didn’t have simple words to describe what I might mean by it. So here it is – invest the best in love. Kindness, a welcoming approach, listening deeply, and ensuring that the assumptions in my day-to-day thinking regarding my loving relationships are positive ones have nothing at all to do with money, with sex, or with material goods – without these things, though, no amount of money will buy me love.

An easy example, and common, if I am short-tempered with a loved one in a brief moment, surely it can be understood as part of being human, and an appropriate apology and making it right allows everyone to move on. If, however, my short-temperedness is a character trait that is recognizably ‘who I am’ it will likely undermine love over time. Other things work that way too; sarcasm, mockery, meanness, and cruelty have no role to play in love – defending their use by saying “it’s just who I am”, or by calling it a joke, may not be enough to stop love’s erosion over time, particularly if the user of such behaviors is unaware of the hurtful effect. (If the user is entirely aware of the hurtful effect of such things, and uses them for amusement or in anger without regard to the hurt they cause – that’s not love.)

This weekend, I mused with regret at some point that I don’t have money laying about in capital amounts with which to support my traveling partners endeavors – how wonderful it would be to be able to invest heavily in a solid business proposal, see it get off the ground, and watch his success and independence grow! I felt, ever so briefly, that I ‘don’t have enough to offer’. In material terms, that may be true (it also may not be true; ‘enough’ is a slippery concept). I realized as we talked through that particular conversation that what love asks of me has nothing whatever to do with money, and it’s never been money that was the strength of this relationship; emotions don’t work that way. Love is an emotion. Suddenly, I felt unsteady in my understanding of the world – I awoke to the vast riches I have to offer my relationships (and they are vast indeed).

If love isn’t looking for a cash investment, what is it looking for that I do have plentifully? How about – are you ready for this, because we’re all a lot wealthier than we realize, if we choose to be so – kindness. Yep. Day-to-day kindness and gentle words. Patience. Deep listening – really put myself on pause to hear what my partner is saying without ‘waiting for my turn to talk’. Hearing – really hearing my partner, the words, the intent, the meaning, the emotion – really ‘getting it’, because they matter, and it doesn’t cost a thing besides my good intentions, and a verb or two. Isn’t the basic willingness to do these things sort of implied when I say “I love you”? Making room in my experience to share the journey with another – graciously, generously, merrily – and making the good moments of greater value by savoring them, sharing them, exploring them, and giving them more of my precious mortal time, than I spend ruminating over some momentary misunderstanding, or hurt feelings over thoughtless words. How about vulnerability, too? Sharing life from the perspective that we are each very human, and being open to sharing our selves and experience in a raw and honest way – still being kind, still speaking gently, still listening deeply… it sounds easy. It’s worth practicing. It takes practice – invested, willful, engaged practice. And more of that, again and again.

Yelling, irritability, contentious disagreeable conversation, argument, fussing, insults, anger – not a bit of this is love. The love is in the quiet spaces in between, and in the laughter – and if we don’t invest the best we have to offer in the love we wish to enjoy, the love will slowly be squeezed out by thoughtlessness, negativity, anger, attachment to expectations, and disappointment when our assumption that love ‘should’ overlook our nastiness and bullshit doesn’t turn out to be true. Love isn’t a tantrum; it’s the long-term investment in what is best within ourselves.

Before we go too far, I want to be clear about one small detail – I don’t know of any way to actually ‘fake love’. This isn’t a ‘fake it until you make it’ sort of area of life, and a saccharine smile and a terse insincere “I’m fine” when that is clearly not the case isn’t love, either; it’s a lie. It is possible to speak honestly and sincerely – and also gently. (Listening helps with that.) Seriously. It is. Try it out sometime. It’s quite a lovely experience, I find. Yep. It does take practice. 🙂

Love is in the small things - strange for such a big deal.

Love is in the small things – strange for such a big deal.

Today is a good day to be love. Today is a good day to invest the best of what I have to offer in the relationships that matter most to me. Today is a good day to practice loving well. I’ll start with the woman in the mirror. Love can change the world.